Feeding Frenzy (The Summoner Sisters Book 1)

by Allison Hurd

  “Rock on,” Lia says, adding more of her blood to the flames. I’ve been watching her closely—I’d estimate she’s down about a cup at this point. Time to get going, while the getting’s good.

  “Rock on!” the goddess responds with a double thumbs up.

  I can see the light at the end of this ordeal. “So, would you please pass along the message to Hades, and perhaps notify us somehow of his decision?”

  “Gracious, no, I’m not a secretary, but I can get one. It’s lonely here, but there’s help in droves.”

  “That would be much appreciated,” I tell the deity.

  “Hades isn’t always what you’d call ‘emotionally available,’ but he really does go out of his way to provide for me.” Instead of getting up, she leans back on the divan, beautiful in her melancholy, and holds out her cup to the invisible butler for more alcohol.

  “I’m sorry to hear that my lady,” I say. “Maybe the secretary would be good company for you, then.” My light at the end of the tunnel is fading back into the distance again.

  “No, he’ll judge me. He was one of those monks who forsakes everything worth living for. Totally harshes my buzz.” She groans. “Can’t a queen just get drunk in her throne room?” She starts laughing, which turns into halfhearted sobs.

  This is rapidly going downhill.

  “My queen. Your subjects have had a long day. Please, let me come to you with a new handmaiden, and we will join you in your revelry.” The succubus speaks up for the first time since she was called on. I nod enthusiastically with this plan.

  “And what, pray tell, is it that we revel,” a smooth, deep voice calls from somewhere out of our field of vision. I think I’m going to faint for real now.

  “My love!” Persephone bounds up unsteadily from her seat. “I didn’t expect you today! I was passing some time with some mortals who are the bee’s knees.”

  The Lord of the Underworld slides into view. While his wife’s heavily beaded dress looks like she would be at home in the 1920’s American aristocracy, Hades is barefoot in a low slung toga. I imagine that this is lounge wear for Greek gods. He is masculine perfection, all rippling muscle and body hair, his dark locks meeting a dark beard on a face that could have been chiseled from marble. I’m not sure about the whole inter-family marriage thing, but aside from that, missus queen of the underworld did pretty well for herself, I’d say.

  Persephone embraces her mate, who then turns around and looks at us. His eyes glance over the three of us mortals, resting on the succubus. He then looks at all of us more carefully, this time stopping to stare at Brittany, his vision focusing in on her extended stomach. Hades squares up to the portal, his arms dropping from his wife’s waist.

  “Explain.” He demands of the succubus, pointing at Brittany.

  “Sweet, let’s not do this now. She’s already told me about it, and I forgive her,” Persephone says nervously.

  “You are perhaps too kind, my dearest,” Hades rumbles. “I will hear for myself.”

  “I know I was not intended to find a mate, my lord—”

  “Where is your guide? I sent you to the mortal realm with a chaperone for this express purpose. What has come of the man Gregor?”

  I squirm uncomfortably in the low bow I’ve offered and maintained since Hades showed up. It feels better not showing him my face, like maybe if I can’t see him, he can’t see me. What are the odds, do you think, that gods lack object permanence?

  “He didn’t know until it was too late, lord. And I am afraid he has not remained faithful, but I was unable to learn why.”

  “So, am I to be betrayed by all I send to Earth?” Hades’ voice is low and cold. This sentence, even though it is not directed at me, sends twin pits of doom to my stomach: one for disappointing him and one for realizing what the price of his disappointment will be.

  “Master, please, I beg of you,” the succubus implores. “This is not the mortal’s fault. She did not know it was forbidden.”

  “My king, Artemis speaks on their behalf. Here, she sent this,” Hades looks over to his wife, who passes him a scroll. He reads it carefully, and his face softens slightly.

  “My niece makes a moving appeal for the mortal. I am quite fond of my niece,” he states, setting the scroll down and picking up his own glass of mead. “And so, therefore, we will discuss it. Come in.”

  No. No, no, no! No way in hell am going to…well, hell. I go to stand up, and Lia follows my lead. Her face is drawn, the shadows under her eyes brighter than her blanched skin. She grabs her arm tightly to help stop the bleeding.

  “We will leave you now, then, my lord,” I say respectfully, with another bow.

  “No, please, I insist. I would hear this tale in its entirety. Artemis has pleasing things to say about you, as well.”

  I look at the chalice. If we can just stamp it out, we should be able to avoid going to his realm immediately, and may even be able to get some place where we can block all calls from Hades entirely. The very last thing you want to do, if you’re intent on living, is to waltz into the Court of the Unseen King. If he doesn’t reopen a way home for you, the only known way out is back up the river Styx, which is…well, let’s just say that even the best white water rafters in the world would look at this river and decide to sit this one out.

  I go to move towards the flames, but my legs have been numb now for almost an hour, and they completely seize up in an intensely painful mixture of cramps and pins and needles. I fall unceremoniously to my knees, only able to think of making the pain stop.

  The succubus takes Brittany’s hand, and with the same hang dog look of those heading for the gallows, the monster moves towards the portal.

  I regain my feet, and surreptitiously make for the chalice while I contemplate our options. Lia and I are exhausted, wounded and seriously outmatched if this comes to a fight. Just then, we hear the click of a gun cocking.

  “Do not make me say it twice, mortals,” Hades threatens ominously.

  “Freeze! Police!” a voice says behind me. “Hands up!”

  “My lord, we mean no disrespect,” I say quickly. “It just appears we are suddenly embattled.”

  I lock eyes with Lia. I can’t believe I got her involved in this. It was my harebrained idea that got us into this mess, and now we’re between a gun and a grave.

  “I’m so sorry, Lia,” I say softly. I put up my right hand in surrender.

  CHAPTER 17

  “Don’t shoot!” I yell back. “We’re unarmed.” Lia quickly puts up her hands as well.

  “Both hands, Ms. Watson,” Detective Kline’s twangy voice calls out. “Or is that tennis injury a little too tender?”

  He swaggers up, and roughly grabs my left arm, pulling it behind me in an arm lock. I hiss in pain.

  “Are you fucking dense?” Lia yells as the other cop cuffs her with a little more force than is strictly necessary. “Do you not see the deity in the gap in the fucking sky? Say hello to Hades, motherfuckers, you’ll prolly see him again soon.”

  “Cute magic trick, you satanic tweaker,” the cop growls.

  “What intrusion is this?” Hades asks, his voice booming over the noise of arriving sirens, our feet stomping gravel, and orders from the detective.

  “Please, let us just break the ritual. We don’t want to leave it like this. Please,” I beg.

  “Rituals, is it? Was Brittany just a sacrifice to you, like that poor boy Cody?” the detective sneers, pushing me towards the squad car that’s just pulled up.

  “What? No! That wasn’t us! Please, just let us finish this, and we’ll come with you.”

  “I don’t think so,” the detective says.

  “This is untenable. If mortals will not obey…” Hades snaps his fingers, and it suddenly feels like I am being squeezed like toothpaste. “Then they will be reminded that it is not optional,” Hades concludes.

  I blink, and realize that we’re now on the other side of the portal, smack in the middle of Hades’ court. I look
at the portal. It is weird seeing our little circle from this angle. As I watch, our chalice sputters out, and the portal disintegrates, wafting like so much ash to the floor of the great hall.

  From this vantage point, the grandeur of the throne room really becomes apparent. The walls are made of crystal, shot through with gold. I gasp as I look at the wall behind us—undulating magma presses against the wall in a fiery current, adding a dim red glow to that side of the room. Far down the hall are massive doors, guarded by tiny, misshapen beings. My breath catches in me again when I realize that the “tiny” creatures are actually two-headed hydra. My research into this fearsome beast puts them at around twenty feet tall when their heads are minimal, so how large must the doors be? Recesses in the walls contain sumptuous seating areas with statues, paintings and tapestries adorning them in a display so rich that even the wealth of jewels and priceless artifacts each seem unremarkable.

  A little dazzled and definitely intimidated, I focus back on my neighbors. It seems that Hades has grabbed everyone: me, Lia, Detective Kline, and Officer No Name. Brittany and the succubus are off to one side, huddled together against the hostility of the situation.

  “Now you’ve done it,” I whisper bitterly to the detective. I guess that, given the situation, it was fairly inevitable that one way or another I’d end up in death, but it doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.

  “Silence,” Hades commands.

  “You can let us go right now. We’re with the Roanoke PD,” Detective Kline asserts boldly. “You could get in serious trouble for kidnapping an officer.” I give him points for keeping his calm in this bizarre situation, but take them away again for addressing someone who’s easily nine feet tall and glowing as if they were just some other hooligan kid.

  Hades’ face darkens at the tone used. I begin to fear that we’re all going to experience firsthand what sort of things the god of death can accomplish when he’s at the height of his power.

  Then Persephone laughs warmly, as if the detective has just told a very funny joke. The succubus joins in and Hades’ demeanor lightens slightly. “You are right, my queen,” he says, turning to his wife. “These mortals are most amusing.”

  I guess now we know that Detective Kline was not in league with Gregor. Small blessing that turned out to be, since we’re all now trapped in Hades’ palace regardless, but I suppose I can check “the mystery of the dickish detective” off the to do list. I watch the two officers as Hades brushes their threats off with a chuckle. If my sister and I hadn’t been caught in this deathtrap alongside them, I would have very much enjoyed watching Kline’s face go from pompous authority to petrified confusion. That’s right, you son of a bitch. There’s always a bigger fish.

  “W-what’s going on,” the other cop stammers.

  “Welcome to the Court of the Unseen King,” Persephone states royally as Hades ascends his obsidian throne. As we watch, her cute little flapper dress lengthens and darkens, becoming a robe of deepest black, a diamond crown on her brow. This must be her dread aspect, the full costume of the Queen of Sorrows.

  The invisible hands holding us let go. In the absence of their pressure, my busted rib screams its displeasure. I can’t do anything about it though with my hands cuffed, so I grit my teeth, fighting back a curse as Lia and I go into a deep bow.

  “Show some respect,” Lia whispers to the detective. He looks at her, lip curled in disdain, but he bends his head a little in what I guess could charitably be considered a bow.

  Hades, however, isn’t running a charity. The chthonic king raises an eyebrow and takes another sip from his jeweled chalice. He idly flicks a hand towards our group, and a woman appears from behind his seat with a lasso that writhes like a snake in her hands. She is the very picture of a devil—leathery black wings protruding from her mottled blue and white skin, with blood red eyes and carnivorous teeth. She whips out her infernal rope and catches Detective Kline about the neck, pulling down. With a strangled cry, he falls to his knees, trying to loosen the noose that seems to grow tighter the more he scratches at it. The remaining officer watches in horror as his boss is strangled, and hastily mimics Lia’s and my own supplications.

  Hades quirks a small half smile and helps his lady to her throne before resuming his own. When he is quite content, he raises another finger, this time a dismissal. Nemesis, the daimon of righteous indignation, retracts her living lash from Kline’s neck. The man stays on his knees, sputtering and drawing large, gasping breaths as he feels the welts already rising around his windpipe.

  Hades chuckles throatily. “This is much better. You are so wise, my queen, to seek out the entertainment of mortals. Truly, I could use some diversion.”

  “That’s a swell idea, my love,” Persephone compliments him. “Perhaps that’s what should happen. We will ask them to be amusing, and then we can send them back when we are satisfied.” She winks at us, which is at odds with her somber mien. I catch on to her plan.

  “We would be honored to entertain the lord Hades,” I respond. Lia clenches her jaw and nods mutely.

  “Excellent. I have a few loyal supporters who have not seen a holiday in years. Perhaps they will enjoy a little sport,” Hades muses.

  That doesn’t sound very much like something I’ll enjoy, but I bow again in assent. Doors to my left, previously hidden behind heavy drapery embroidered with precious stones, burst open, admitting a tumultuous torrent of sound: tormented screams ride whispers of words I can almost catch, and ebb around the sounds of a festive party. Through the door a number of people wait, and the most inviting tree shines in a permanent shower of late afternoon sun. I gulp. This is the Tree of Somnia. It is sort of like a mirage in the desert, or landing on Community Chest in Monopoly—it only seems like it should be a thing of joy. It is said that each leaf is a deception, and that the fruit it bears is doom to any who would eat it.

  “In that tower,” Hades instructs, pointing to a very tall structure through the open door, “is a path back to the mortal realms. It is the highest point in my kingdom. If you can get there before Artemis’ hunt takes to the sky, you may return to your home. If, however, you are unable to do so, you will stay here and keep my court…lively.” He chuckles a little again at his own pun. “How does that sound, guests of Artemis?”

  “Unaccep—” Kline’s opinion is neatly cut off as Lia hip checks him.

  “Most generous, Lord,” I reply with some serious side eye at this so-called sleuth. “But it is always night here in your realm, how will we know if Artemis hunts again?”

  He smiles gently and plucks a small diamond from his chalice. “This will glow as does my nephew’s chariot. When it is as cold as a sapphire, you will be out of time.” He passes the diamond to the same invisible butler who’s been keeping the cups filled, and the shade offers the stone to Ophelia. As she accepts it in her tied hands, it begins to glow brilliantly; a miniature sun in the palm of her hand. It slowly fades until it casts a soft morning light around her.

  “And us, my lord?” the succubus asks timidly.

  Hades contemplates the wayward monster. “You have brought joy to my lady. Your debt to me will be immense, but I will make room for your mate and babe. Do not let this reprieve reassure you. We will settle our accounts.” The succubus swallows nervously, but nods, taking Brittany’s hand. She leans into the succubus for a second, but then lets her hand go and runs over to us, grabbing my sister and me into quick, tight hugs.

  “Thank you. Thank you so much,” she whispers. Brittany returns to her mate, who smiles at her lovingly.

  Hades regards my sister kindly. “You have the feeling of a kindred spirit, small mortal. Are you sure you would not prefer to stay among us? With the blessings of my niece and my queen, you could live here as a handmaiden, privy to the secrets and pleasures of Elysium.”

  Lia turns the stone over in her tied hands and considers the amazing architecture of this ancient hall. Have you ever felt pigeonholed by your name? Sometimes I wonder if I enjoy the wa
rmth because it’s something that I truly love, or if it’s because of the strong ties it has to the thoughts inspired by my name. Ophelia, I think, may have been a little corralled by sharing a name with a famous dead person. Where I worship the light, she delights in the dark. Where I enjoy a connection with humanity, she withdraws, preferring to paint her idealized versions of reality in comfortable solitude. She would do well here, and we both know it. This place probably has more art piled in a corner somewhere than the Louvre has on all of its walls. I can almost hear her thinking about how she would be able to study with great masters and learn techniques lost to humanity now for thousands of years.

  She looks up and sees me watching her. In the shadows of her eyes, I can sense her contemplating life with two deities, with no faeries wreaking havoc, no need to worry about awkward conversations, or bills, or gunshots. But then she focuses back on the here and now, and grins mischievously at me. My shoulders relax a little. I haven’t lost her yet. This may come as a shock, but I’ve sort of built a life around traveling with her. If she stayed, I probably would, too, and I would miss our messed up little corner of the world something fierce.

  “Thank you, my Lord, the offer is tempting. I won’t say that I would be unhappy to remain with you, but I think I am not yet done on Earth,” she says at last.

  “As you say,” Hades responds. “Good luck then, favored of Artemis. May your adventure be as amusing as your company.”

  I kick the cop I’m standing next to as I bow, forcing him to do the same. When we stand up again, the gods are gone, leaving us in a cavernous chamber with only one open, Hydra-free door, now suspiciously absent of the people that had just been there.

  I shake my head gently to clear away my exhaustion. One problem at a time. I guess that it’s a good thing that I’ve practiced sleep deprivation so long. We’re coming up on twenty-four hours without rest, and are now facing a series of trials, unless my mark is way off.

  We circle up. I see the badge says “Rodgers,” on Officer No Name.